Tonight fireworks lit up the sky over English Bay. For an incredible half hour pyrotechnics of the utmost calibre wowed an audience of thousands on the shores. Tonight the artists took us back to a childhood favourite, and one many know for obvious other reasons, the Wizard of Oz. Oz put to music that was high ptiched and heavy on the munchins. The fireworks were perfectly set to the music, on point with the tone, and spectacular.
Apparently it took three days to set it up. Which makes sense since the next one is Saturday. It makes you think good and hard about what you can blow up in 30 minutes. Thanks to corparate sponsorship, anything is possible. Alls fair in love and business. It was beautiful, but what else is even more beautiful is when no one is laying homeless on the street on the way home. While one exists, so will the other. Capitalism isn't working for thay guy on the street corner. Let there be no more casualties of business. Yet, the fireworks will still happen. Should I not go?
I support businesses that are local, buy organic when I can, buy misuc from artists, attend local shows, my neighbourhood. This summer has been one of comfort and trial, made me feel alive, engaged, and with purpose, peace and balance I have acheived good things. So, should I not go?
I think that I will join the masses that flock for this moment of artistic expression, as costly and wasteful as it is. I will always be the one in the crowd gazing intently, reacting, enjoying the beauty of them for what they are.
Cheers Vancouver, fora unique experience as always.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Monday, July 13, 2009
I'm in for the fight
Vancouver is a battleground. Here lives are won and lost based on government policy decisions, and as long as you've got money, yours won't be one of them. Socio-economic status dictates if you get to live. I live 20 minutes from a gentrocide backed by Canadian and British Columbian governments in the name of democracy and safe streets. It is backed by an International community regarding Canada as a leader in human rights and on Olympic Committee choosing it as a site of the 2010 Winter Games. It is backed by a complacent Canadian population, 90% of whom stated in a recent poll by CTV that Canada is the best country in the world.
The city is a constant site of battle. Recently Oppenhiemer Park was barred with iron gates. In the heart of the downtown eastside it was home to many, refuge to more and a communal space where people were always gathered. What gets ignored in all of this is who lives there and why we are okay as a society with letting this happen.
My perpective as a feminist, activist, law student having just applied for future jobs in a profession where morals sometimes get checked at the door, I feel good about my selections and their potential to shift some of this. It is work that needs to be done, and about which I am passionate. But I am weary when people stop listening. When my passion falls on deaf ears. Where it doesn't matter to the leaders of our world that there are people of their country whose needs are not being met who need action now.
We are reaching a dangerous point in this country where people don't see the hard stuff- Canadians are great at patting themselves on the back. When we dig deeply, when we pay attention, we see that the people evicted from Oppenheimer Park were largely aboriginal, likely homeless, some probably were involved in the sex trade, though men tend to be more visible on the streets, and all were likely addicted to drugs. These are the people who are the subject of my advocacy this summer. These are the women and men who live the consequences of the criminalization of the sex trade, residential schools, the welfare cut-off rates, and the definition of disability in the legislation. This stuff matters.
There is hope in the downtown eastside. Those who don't get a voice of their own very often are beginning to speak. Today I went to a potluck barbeque in the park for Pivot, the Community Legal Society for the downtown eastside. I played botche ball with Emma and her grandmother, and chatted with other supporters and people who worked there. It was a great community buidling afternoon with delicious snacks. An anarchist-festival-disguised-as children's-festival Alice in Wonderland costume party was happening just beyond the bushes a little ways down.
But tonight, as I've sat on my balcony downtown, I'm reminded of where I live. I've heard fights in different languages, vomitting in a language everyone can understand and countless sirens. We live in a battleground, and I'm in for the fight.
Rach,
from an "everynight" kind of Vancouver night
The city is a constant site of battle. Recently Oppenhiemer Park was barred with iron gates. In the heart of the downtown eastside it was home to many, refuge to more and a communal space where people were always gathered. What gets ignored in all of this is who lives there and why we are okay as a society with letting this happen.
My perpective as a feminist, activist, law student having just applied for future jobs in a profession where morals sometimes get checked at the door, I feel good about my selections and their potential to shift some of this. It is work that needs to be done, and about which I am passionate. But I am weary when people stop listening. When my passion falls on deaf ears. Where it doesn't matter to the leaders of our world that there are people of their country whose needs are not being met who need action now.
We are reaching a dangerous point in this country where people don't see the hard stuff- Canadians are great at patting themselves on the back. When we dig deeply, when we pay attention, we see that the people evicted from Oppenheimer Park were largely aboriginal, likely homeless, some probably were involved in the sex trade, though men tend to be more visible on the streets, and all were likely addicted to drugs. These are the people who are the subject of my advocacy this summer. These are the women and men who live the consequences of the criminalization of the sex trade, residential schools, the welfare cut-off rates, and the definition of disability in the legislation. This stuff matters.
There is hope in the downtown eastside. Those who don't get a voice of their own very often are beginning to speak. Today I went to a potluck barbeque in the park for Pivot, the Community Legal Society for the downtown eastside. I played botche ball with Emma and her grandmother, and chatted with other supporters and people who worked there. It was a great community buidling afternoon with delicious snacks. An anarchist-festival-disguised-as children's-festival Alice in Wonderland costume party was happening just beyond the bushes a little ways down.
But tonight, as I've sat on my balcony downtown, I'm reminded of where I live. I've heard fights in different languages, vomitting in a language everyone can understand and countless sirens. We live in a battleground, and I'm in for the fight.
Rach,
from an "everynight" kind of Vancouver night
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